


talking to the moon

by the_nvisiblegirl



Series: Post-Episode Shenanigans (Season 5) [11]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alien Abduction, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Tag, Episode: s05 e15 Swan Thong, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nvisiblegirl/pseuds/the_nvisiblegirl
Summary: “Gideon, where is Sara?” she asks as soon as she’s stepped foot on the ship because even though she may not be able to find her girlfriend, their AI will be.“I am afraid I do not have an answer to that question, Captain Sharpe.”She stops dead in her tracks.“What do you mean you don’t have an answer?”“I am unable to locate Captain Lance.”Ava’s stomach drops.Or: Ava tries to cope with Sara's disappearance.
Relationships: Ava Sharpe & Behrad Tarazi, Ava Sharpe & Zari Tomaz | Zari Tarazi, Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Series: Post-Episode Shenanigans (Season 5) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734784
Comments: 13
Kudos: 95





	talking to the moon

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally had this on my hard drive half-finished since about a month after the season finale aired but was struggling to finish it. Well, I finally made it! I don't love this—I think it's definitely one of my weaker works—but I decided to post it anyway.
> 
> It's a bit of a mixed media situation. Not sure if that was a good idea or not, but I thought the visual was important. You'll get what I mean.
> 
> Enjoy punks!

She turns around for _one moment_ and Sara is gone. Now, Ava is drunk, yes, but she definitely isn’t drunk enough to have lost her ability for rational thought—well, at least not _entirely_ —so after scanning her surroundings—car, John, Zari, wall, Nate, Behrad, Astra, car—she deduces that the other woman must have gone back inside. Maybe she forgot something. Or has to pee. Or is simply getting another drink; one for the road.

Honestly, this isn’t even the first time the blonde has slipped away without Ava noticing. There was an incident at a farmer’s market a few months back where she vanished in the middle of a conversation—well, maybe more of a monologue on Ava’s part, if she was being honest—about wether to get strawberries or raspberries only for the taller woman to eventually find her at an Arab food stall tasting her way through the food on offer. So, instead of panicking, she simply gets out her phone and sends her girlfriend a quick text (because she is dating a former assassin after all).

“Guys, wait a second! We lost Sara,” she yells after the others when they just keep walking in the direction of where the Waverider is parked. Nate is the first to turn, almost falling over in the process before Behrad catches him by the sleeve of his jacket. They dissolve into a fit of honest to God giggles and—even drunk—Ava has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at their childishness. Sometimes she feels like when she started dating Sara she inadvertently became the step-mom of a bunch of overgrown children. (A bunch of overgrown children she has come to love very much.) She smiles.

Five minutes later, Sara still hasn’t returned, so Ava texts her again.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190580684@N08/50428859252/in/dateposted-public/)

At this point, Ava is starting to get antsy because a) she’s very good at panicking and b) there’s been one too many times where one of them was in serious trouble and she is not about to lose Sara for the third time. (Or would it be the fourth already?)

Her quiet distress is pretty obvious, apparently, because Zari extracts herself from John’s arms and sidles up to Ava.

“What’s up, captain?”

For a moment, she considers her options: lie to the other woman and tell her that everything is fine when she is increasingly convinced that it isn’t or tell the truth. It’s not like she has any hard evidence yet that something has happened to Sara. She just has this _feeling_. This horrible, sinking dread that’s pooling in her stomach, clawing at her chest from the inside out. And she’s trying to keep it together because she might just be overreacting—she might just be paranoid.

It takes one look at Zari’s face—concern clear in her dark eyes—for Ava to make her decision.

“I need to go look for Sara. Are you okay to take the boys home?”

Zari gives her a soft smile, briefly squeezes her biceps.

“Sure thing,” she says and then turns back toward Nate, Behrad, and John. “I can take care of a couple of drunk idiots.”

“Hey, who are you calling idiots, huh?” Nate demands, jabbing a finger into Zari’s general direction as he stumbles over his own feet once again.

“You, you idiot.”

“Thanks, Zari.” Ava gives her a terse smile. “Text me if she comes home?”

“Of course, captain.”

The bar is practically empty when she steps back inside, only a handful of patrons nursing what’s left of their drinks while one of the barkeepers sweeps the floor and a young couple makes out in the corner by the toilets. Ava purposefully strides over to the bar where she recognizes the woman who served them for the better part of the night.

“Sorry, did my girlfriend come back in here? Blonde, shorter than me, leopard print coat?”

“Nah, haven’t seen her since you left, mate. And I would’ve definitely noticed, believe me.”

The woman gives her a look that makes it very clear what she is insinuating but Ava chooses to ignore it and forces a neutral expression onto her face. “I’ll just have a quick look myself,” she says pointing into the general direction of the toilets before turning on her heels.

Sara isn’t in the bathroom. Or the stock room. Or backstage. Maybe they missed each other and Sara left the bar just as she was checking the toilets, Ava thinks because she’s not about to catastrophize this and jump to any conclusions. Sara is probably waiting outside right now, wondering where the hell everyone is.

So Ava goes to exit the building, throwing the barkeeper a dirty look in lieu of a goodbye. The air is cold when she steps outside and she pulls her coat closer around her body in an effort to ward it off but it doesn’t help.

Sara is nowhere to be seen.

She gets out her phone—no new notifications—and dials Sara’s number. The call goes straight to voicemail and Ava’s brows furrow in a mix of worry and confusion. It’s not like Sara to turn off her phone or ignore her calls. There is the possibility that she just lost her phone altogether, dropped it in the toilet or something like that, but it seems more and more unlikely that Sara’s disappearance is only a brief incident of unfortunate timing, and Ava can feel her throat tighten like it always does when she’s about to have a panic attack. She quickly sends her another text—more desperate this time—before she practically runs back to the Waverider.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190580684@N08/50428859242/in/dateposted-public/)

“Gideon, where is Sara?” she asks as soon as she’s stepped foot on the ship because even though she may not be able to find her girlfriend, their AI definitely will be.

“I am afraid I do not have an answer to that question, Captain Sharpe.”

She stops dead in her tracks.

“What do you mean you don’t have an answer?”

“I am unable to locate Captain Lance.”

Ava’s stomach drops.

“Thank you, Gideon,” she says tonelessly, sinking against the closest wall with her back before slowly sliding down until she’s sitting on the floor. She pulls her knees toward herself, rests her head on them, and takes a few measured breaths. In and Out. In and Out. In and Out.

It’s almost like the universe is trying to tell her something by throwing these things at them, by doing everything in its power to keep them apart recently. Maybe she isn’t meant to be happy after all. Maybe there are no happy endings for clones. Maybe she has been deceiving herself this whole time and she needs to finally face facts.

With shaking fingers she pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket once more.

It’s not like she actually expects to see a reply from Sara. Hell, if Gideon can’t find her, the likelihood that she has reception wherever she is right now is slim to none. Her fingers hover of they keyboard for a few seconds before she starts typing a message and, eventually, hits send.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190580684@N08/50427990663/in/dateposted-public/)

Part of her wants to cry. Because she misses Sara already. Because she’s so worried about the other woman. Because of how unfair all of this is. But she has neither the time nor the energy for tears right now so, instead, she gets up to do the sensible thing and talk to John.

It’s been four days and they still haven’t found Sara; don’t even have so much as a vague idea of where she might be. She could be in the future. In another universe. She could be _dead_. No. Ava refuses to even think that. Sara isn’t dead. If there is one thing the other woman is good at, it’s not dying. At this point, she has defied death so many times that it’s almost a hobby of hers. A pastime. Something that just _happens_ every now and again—like the Olympics or laundry day.

Sometimes, she has a thought that, maybe, is even worse than the idea of Sara being dead: that Sara has left her—left their family—intentionally. That she has turned and run without looking back because Ava pushed her too far saying things like “co-captains for life” and urging her to move in together, to settle down. Maybe Sara realized that she doesn’t want any of it after all. That she doesn’t want to be domesticated. Tied down. _Loved_.

It’s a thought that breaks Ava when she’s alone in bed at night, unable to sleep because the space beside her is empty. She feels Sara’s absence right in the middle of her chest, like a weight pressing down on her ribcage, a knife stuck in her side. It’s physical— _visceral_ —and she’s pretty sure that she’s almost at her breaking point. She’s trying to keep it together even when the rest of the team keeps asking her how she’s doing, if she needs help with anything, if there’s something they can do. And she appreciates it, she really does—she’s never had people who care about her so much—but all she wants is to just be alone. She wants to scream, and cry, and break things. She wants to absolutely lose control because she’s never had it in the first place. She wants to burn everything to the ground and watch the flames dance.

But none of that is an option so, instead, she focuses on the search for Sara with single-minded determination. Most days, she forgets to eat until someone pushes a plate into her hands as she pours over books and maps and articles until she eventually falls asleep at the desk.

All the while, she keeps her phone never more than an arm’s length away just in case Sara calls and this nightmare ends.

Tonight, she has actually made it to bed but she can’t sleep because the bed is too empty without Sara next to her. She’s trying hard to distract herself, to not think about all the things that could have happened to Sara but it’s hard when catastrophizing is one of her most refined skills. So she reaches for her phone instead. Maybe she can listen to a podcast to help her fall asleep. Or an audiobook. Maybe reading something will help.

But her fingers almost automatically drift to her message app.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190580684@N08/50427990633/in/dateposted-public/)

There have been many times where she typed out a message over the last couple of days. Little things that reminded her of Sara or something stupid John said. Sometimes she writes long paragraphs—about how she feels, about her worst fears and the fact that she isn’t sure she would survive without Sara. She never sends them. But tonight she did.

It’s a coping mechanism, of sorts.

Because texting Sara makes it easier to pretend that she is only away on a mission or taking care of some business in Star City at the moment. Texting Sara is her lifeline right now. Texting Sara means she doesn’t have to think about the possibility that Sara is gone for good. (It becomes harder and harder each day to ignore the fact that the conversation is entirely one-sided.)

She sends the next one early in the morning—after another sleepless night—when it’s been almost two weeks since Sara went missing and the hole in her heart has grown to approximately the size of the Grand Canyon.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190580684@N08/50428032188/in/dateposted-public/)

She has never been one to wear her girlfriends’ clothes before, not even with Sara—probably because most of the blonde’s clothes don’t actually fit her—but something about putting on Sara’s favorite hoodie calms her and she can finally see the appeal. It’s tight and the sleeves are too short but she doesn’t care, not when it feels like it’s all she has left of the other woman.

So she forgoes her usual blazers and blouses in favor of comfort. In favor of having something to hold onto because she’s hanging by a thread.

It’s the fourth day straight of her wearing the hoodie when Zari finally cracks and says, “When I told you to stop wearing pantsuits I didn’t mean you should turn into Justin Bieber.”

Ava knows she means it as a joke, that she’s trying to cheer Ava up, but it’s not working. Ava doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t react at all, just keeps staring at the maps in front of her without actually taking any of it in.

Her hands are in the pockets of the hoodie, fingers digging into the material in an attempt to ground herself, to keep it together. It’s a battle she knows she can’t win, especially when Zari looks at her with pity in those big brown eyes—with understanding—before stepping up behind her and wrapping her arms around the blonde.

“I get it,” she says softly, mouth close to the other woman’s ear, and Ava breaks into tears.

It’s their four-year anniversary when Sara has been gone for just over a month. She doesn’t even remember—doesn’t even know what day it is—until Gideon reminds her and the pain becomes so intense, so blinding, that she’s afraid it might crack her chest in half right in the middle of the bridge.

She excuses herself before she can fall apart in front of everyone and flees to the gym. She can’t take the bedroom, not with all of Sara’s things still in there. Not right now. So she collapses on the treadmill instead, lets her head fall into her hands, and just _cries_ until she’s run out of tears. Until there is a dull ache radiating from her skull.

Until she can see clearly enough to send Sara just three little words.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190580684@N08/50427990698/in/dateposted-public/)

Behrad gives her a sketch to mark the occasion—just slides it across the table after dinner and offers her a lopsided smile. It’s Sara and her in cowboy outfits and Ava recognizes the style from the drawing he gave Sara after Oliver’s death. She gulps.

The tears are almost instant and, at this point, she doesn’t have the energy to fight them. Not anymore. So she just lets them fall—sits there in complete silence, tears streaming down her face, as she stares at the drawing.

“We’ll get her back,” Behrad says quietly and a sob escapes her before she can hold it back.

It’s all hands on deck in the office a couple days later as they once again try to figure out how to locate Sara.

John and Zari are in the armchair in the corner, being so cute and couple-y that Ava has to really pull herself together not to snap at them every time John tells her how and why another plan is not going to work. Nate is at the table pouring over some old book in a language Ava has never even heard of and Gary has taken on the role of team caterer, making sure everyone has coffee and snacks and, in Mick’s case, a steady supply of alcohol.

“This is pointless,” Astra huffs as she tosses another book to the side and Zara immediately shushes her, hissing something that Ava can’t quite make out but sounds suspiciously like, “ _Shut up or I will drop your jewelry collection down the toilet_.”

But the thing is—Ava is starting to agree with Astra. Maybe this _is_ pointless. They’ve been going in circles for weeks not getting anywhere and, slowly but surely, she’s at her wit’s end. What she wouldn’t give for Sara’s advice right now.

Almost reflexively she reaches for her phone and types out a message while Astra and Zari bicker in the background. She’s not even sure she wants to actually send it—not sure she _should_ —but just getting the words out there helps with not going insane right now. With admitting to herself that, maybe, this is her life. That Sara is gone and won’t come back.

She sighs.

“Gideon, any news?”

“I’m afraid not, Captain.”

Of course not.

She sends the message.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190580684@N08/50428683591/in/dateposted-public/)

The best course of action is probably to call it a day. To accept defeat. To try and clear her head somehow and then start fresh tomorrow. She’s about to do just that when her phone buzzes, still in her hand. The moment she sees the notification, her heart stops.

It’s a message from Sara.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/190580684@N08/50427990708/in/dateposted-public/)

Her first thought is that she is hallucinating. Either that or that she is being pranked because surely it can’t be this easy. This can’t be real.

Instantly, her heart is hammering against her chest with such force that she’s afraid it might fall out altogether. She can hear the blood thumping in her ears like ocean waves crashing against the shore. It’s like her feelings are drowning her, overwhelming her.

So she stares at the message. And stares and stares and stares until her eyes water and she gulps.

She thought Sara is dead. That’s the thing she hasn’t wanted to admit, not until now. She thought she would never see her again. And it has been killing her, having to keep up the search, having to keep up morale, while feeling nothing but dread. Nothing but bine-crushing _guilt_.

Because she couldn’t find Sara. Because she wasn't strong enough to have hope. Because she _failed_ her.

With shaking fingers, she dials Sara’s number before she can reconsider.

She isn't really expecting anyone to answer. (And, even if, she still doesn’t think it will actually be Sara on the other end of the line.)

But then the call is picked up after the second ring.

“Hey babe,” a voice that is definitely her girlfriend’s says, tone somewhere between nonchalant and sheepish

Ava gasps.

“ _Sara_.”

It comes out breathy, almost silent, because she can’t believe this is actually happening.

Sara is alive. Sara is not dead.

All eyes in the room are on her, but the blonde doesn’t even notice.

“I’m so sorry, Ava.”

For a moment she is taken aback, unsure what exactly the other woman is apologizing for.

Ava opens her mouth. Closes it again. There are so many things she wants to say—so many questions she needs to ask—that she doesn’t even know where to begin.

“Wha—I… _where_?” is what comes out eventually.

“Right, this is gonna sound crazy—even for our standards—but I got abducted. By aliens.”

“ _Aliens_?”

Ava’s stomach drops. She’s expected a lot of things—space pirates, the League, Damien Darkh—but aliens definitely was not one of them. _Fuck_.

“They beamed me up onto their ship right in front of the club after Charlie left.”

A shuddering breath leaves Ava’s mouth.

“Are you ok?”

The thoughts of Sara being tortured, experimented on, starved, beaten are sudden and intrusive. Yes, the blonde is the strongest person she knows, but even she has her limits.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” she assures her, sounding way too casual for someone who was abducted by aliens and vanished off the face of the earth for over a month.

“ _Don’t worry_? I’ve been worried for six weeks straight,” Ava snaps—and immediately regrets doing so. Her anger is the last thing Sara needs right now.

But, once again, the other woman seems to understand, just like she always does.

“I know, babe. And, like I said, I’m sorry.”

Ava sighs.

“It’s not your fault. God, Sara. I was so worried about you. I thought you were…”

She doesn’t dare finish the sentence.

“I’m fine. Pinky swear,” the blonde says and Ava is unsure if she should laugh or cry. Sara is alive and she’s ok and she was abducted by goddamn aliens and what even is their life. Truly, the urge to leave all this craziness behind—to grab Sara and just move to an isolated cabin somewhere in Alaska—has never been stronger. They could be happy there, she’s sure.

“I saw your messages. They all came through a couple of minutes ago,” Sara says then, and Ava breathes a stunned, “Oh,” in response.

The fact that, at some point, Sara might actually _read_ all the texts she sent her in the past month and a half has never really crossed her mind. Not even because she thought Sara was gone forever, necessarily. More because it was a coping mechanism rather than an actual attempt to communicate.

For one terrible second, she’s worried Sara is going to think that she is overbearing, or clingy, or annoying. But before she can explain why she wrote them—that they were the only thing keeping her sane—Sara says, “I love you. I love you so much, Ava,” and, suddenly, any doubts she has ever had about herself, about their relationship, are gone. For the first time since the blonde’s disappearance, she relaxes.

“Where are you right now?”

“I don’t—I’m not really sure. They just dropped me off somewhere.”

“Give me a moment,” Ava says, putting the phone down. “Gideon—”

“I have already located Captain Lance and plotted a course, Captain Sharpe. We will arrive in approximately two minutes.”

Ava smiles, grateful.

“Thank you, Gideon.”

“Stay put, we’re coming to get you,” she says to Sara once she picks the phone back up. Her hands are shaking, the reality of what is happening slowly setting in.

“Aye aye, captain,” Sara answers and Ava can’t help but let out a laugh.

“I prefer co-captain.”

They stay on the phone for the entirety of the flight, which seems to take forever. Ava wants to ask a thousand questions, tell Sara everything that has happened while she was gone. But she also doesn’t want to overwhelm the other woman so, instead, she stays quiet and just listens to Sara’s even breathing on the other side of the line, phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline.

She’s calmer than she’s been before—calmer than she’s been in a long time—but everything about this seems too good to be true, so she’s not quite ready to believe that this is it, that it could possibly be so _easy_. Mentally, she’s been prepared to put her own health and safety on the line to get Sara back—prepared to slay a dragon. To literally go to the end of the earth if she has to. And now everything’s resolved with a simple phone call?

She is in the cargo bay ready to go before the ship has even landed. The sound of Sara’s breathing is still in her ear. Steady. Even. So Ava tries to concentrate on that instead of all the thoughts running amok in her head. She doesn’t realize that her foot is impatiently tapping against the floor or that her palms are sweaty with anticipation.

Finally, the ship touches down and the hatch starts to open. It is slow, too slow. Ava is just about to tell Gideon to speed things up when she lays eyes on a lone figure—in the same clothes she was wearing when she disappeared—and the words die on her lips.

 _Sara_.

The phone slips from Ava’s hand and clatters to the ground but she doesn’t care, doesn’t even notice. All she cares about is the woman in front of her.

She looks unharmed, at least physically, as she offers Ava a lopsided half-smile as if to say, “sorry for the inconvenience.” There are probably mental scars, though, issues they’ll have to address over the coming weeks and months—nightmares, anxiety, PTSD. It won’t be easy but Ava will be damned if she doesn’t do anything in her power to help the other woman through it.

For a moment, she is rooted to the spot, unable to move, and she just stares at the blonde. Her first instinct is to grab a hold of her and never let go, to never let her out of her sight ever again.

Her legs are moving before her brain has time to consider if, maybe, it would be better to give Sara some space. She’s almost running toward the other woman, breath coming out in quick little puffs.

As soon as she is within reach, Ava pulls Sara against her body.

The hug is tight, almost crushing. It’s a desperate attempt to piece herself back together after weeks of falling apart over and over again—with every book that proofed useless, every dead end, every time she failed Sara.

Sara who practically melts into her, who wraps her arms around Ava’s back and buries her nose in the taller woman's neck.

“You’re safe, baby. I’m here. I got you,” Ava reassures her—reassures both of them—before pressing a gentle kiss against blonde hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Did this work? Let me know!


End file.
